A Marquess for Christmas (Scandalous Seasons Book 5) by Christi Caldwell

Author:Christi Caldwell [Caldwell, Christi]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2014-11-02T23:00:00+00:00

Chapter 10

Patrina pounded away at the keys of the pianoforte. Her discordant version of “While Shepherds Watched Their Flocks by Night” filled the room. Sweet Poppy, ever faithful, her sister struggled to keep pace with Patrina’s playing and belted out the lyrics in her flat voice.

“Fear not said he…” Patrina glanced up from the keys.

“For mighty dread had seized their mind.”

“Their troubled mind,” Penelope called from her spot over on the windowseat that overlooked the grounds below. “Their troubled mind.”

Poppy stopped singing. “That is what I said.”

“No,” Prudence pointed out. “You said their mind, not their troubled mind.”

“I believe I’m the only one with a troubled mind just now,” Jonathan muttered.

Juliet, shot him a reproachful glance. Her hands fell to her waist, and Patrina’s gaze traveled down to the swollen belly that carried their first child. Where most families of the haute ton retreated to their country estates for the Christmastide season, Jonathan had insisted on remaining in London close to the best doctors for Juliet’s period of confinement.

Patrina’s fingers stumbled over the keys, and she returned her attention to playing. Better to focus on the chords, and the keys, and the clumsy playing instead of the bitter envy twisting in her heart for all she’d never have. “Glad tidings of great joy I bring,” she sang softly. Her throat seized. There was no great joy. The beauty of the Christmastide season, the absolute peace was nothing more than a grand illusion that acted as temporary veneer of goodness in an otherwise ugly world.

She jumped up so quickly, her knees knocked the edge of the bench. The delicate mahogany seat scraped the hard wood floor. Patrina’s breath came hard and fast, and she rocked forward on the balls of her feet, filled with a desperate desire to flee.

“Patrina?” Poppy whispered into the absolute stillness of the room.

All at once, Patrina registered the five sets of eyes trained on her. She forced her gaze up, and then wished she hadn’t. Ah, yes. Of course. The looks. These were the pitying kind. She detested the pitying kind above all others.

A knock sounded at the door and a sigh escaped her at the blessed intervention. Smith cleared his throat. “There is a visitor for Lady Patrina.”

A roomful of suspicious gazes swung to Patrina.

She cocked her head, imagining she appeared as bemused as the gape-mouthed Tidemore siblings scattered throughout the room. A towering, golden god of a man entered the room. Her heart thumped a funny rhythm, and she reached a hand up to slow the rapidly beating organ, but then remembered herself. She let her fingers fall back to her side. “W…My lord…”

“The Marquess of Beaufort to see Lady Patrina.” Smith scratched his shock of white hair. “I believe I asked the gentleman to wait in the foyer until I ascertained whether the young lady was receiving visitors,” the deaf butler thundered.

Jonathan surged to his feet. He cupped his hands around his mouth and yelled, “That will be all, Smith.”

“I am ever so sorry for your fall, my lord,” Smith shouted back.

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